


one fine day, you'll sing (your inevitable love song)

by enbyboiwonder



Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Episode: s05e16 Broken Home, First Kiss, Getting Together, Holding Hands, Hospitals, M/M, Memory Loss, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Post-Episode: s05e15 Man Down, Post-Episode: s05e20 Rush, Pre-Relationship, maybe-not-actually-one-sided feelings, mostly canon-compliant, so much hand-holding, thinking they're dating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbyboiwonder/pseuds/enbyboiwonder
Summary: Now all Ryan can think about is how perilously close he came to losing Eric.  Think, like he's mostly managed not to since his early days as a CSI, about how close any of them are to falling.
Relationships: Eric Delko/Ryan Wolfe
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	one fine day, you'll sing (your inevitable love song)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Broken Bones](https://youtu.be/NaoNK-o-rs4) by Aqualung, which I listened to often while writing this.
> 
> Because it's Getting Emo Over Tim Speedle Time all the time, my first thought when Eric mentions having to relearn the basics in Broken Home was, of course, _Oh, fuck. What if he hadn't remembered that Speed's dead, either, and had had to be reminded? Fuck._ So then I wrote this. Well, the first bit. The rest is just me having a lot of wolfeko feelings. I just. I have so many feelings about all of these characters and nowhere else for them to go. 5'7" is too small a frame for all of my emotions.
> 
> (This is, of course, set in Donn Cortez' bookverse, where Eric actually cares about Ryan and doesn't go back to whatever the hell frenemies/work-friends thing they have going on in the show. They had such potential, but all the show's writers cared about was the stupid drama—at the expense of the characters.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They seem to spend so much time at each other's throats, especially early on, and now that he knows that Eric's forgotten about Speedle, too…_
> 
> _He almost couldn't visit him today, now that Eric spends more of his time awake, too afraid that he'd lost his friend anyway._

His eyes flick from number plate to number plate as he searches for Eric's new room. He was transferred to a general floor earlier this morning, well enough now not to need the constant monitoring.

He finds it soon enough, and he hesitates briefly outside the door before quietly pushing it open. For all that he saw Eric after his surgery that first day and for all that he psyched himself up for this visit—only his second since Eric was admitted—he still wasn't quite prepared to see him now and has to take a moment to lean steadyingly against the wall and take the sight of him in.

He looks… Well, he looks better. Not good, but better. Fewer tubes snaking out from under his hospital gown. No longer on the breathing tube—has enough blood running through him again to supply adequate oxygen unassisted. But he looks wan and small, sleeping in that hospital bed, surrounded by all this white sterility.

Ryan rubs a hand over his face, willing himself to hold it together, before pushing off the wall and approaching the bed, sinking into one of the chairs at Eric's side. Elbows braced on his thighs, his hands reach out to rest curled atop the sheets next to Eric's arm, reaching but not yet quite daring to touch. One finger traces the medical bracelet, running over the uneven edge where the ends don't quite line up, before he slips his hand into Eric's, lacing their fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze.

He's never thought of Eric as fragile, vulnerable, but here, holding his cold-fingered hand, seeing the slight pallor to his normally warm golden skin, it's all he can think about, and he hates it. Hates it with a burning fucking passion. Eric's the strongest one of them, always fighting, always trying to make at least this one small corner of the world a better place, always getting right back up when he's knocked down; no one's supposed to be able to just take him down like this, but they have, and now all Ryan can think about is how perilously close he came to losing him. Think, like he's mostly managed not to since his early days as a CSI, about how close any of them are to falling.

He rubs his thumb over the back of Eric's hand, tracing the curve of his knuckles, watching the way his skin and the blood vessels close beneath the surface shift under the movement. He loses himself in the gentle mindlessness of it, chasing away the thoughts that threaten to choke him.

"Speed?" Eric murmurs. Ryan startles, hastily releasing his hand. Eric rolls his head toward him, blinking open exhausted eyes. "Ryan?" he says, confused. His lashes flutter a couple times, then fall closed as if the effort of holding them open is too great. "Coulda sworn Speed was here. He visit when I was asleep?"

Shit. His heart twists in his chest, his breath tumbling to a halt against the back of his throat. He takes a conscious breath, swallows around the lump. "Eric—" But the man's expression stops him, polite and confused; he looks so open and unguarded, and, shit. Anguishing, he says, "Eric, Speedle died before I joined." Eric's face crumples, his throat working. "I'm so sorry," Ryan says; "I know you were close."

"He's— _was_ my best friend," Eric manages at length. He huffs out a humorless laugh, mouth wry. "My best friend, my sister… Anyone else dead I'm forgetting about?"

"Not that I know of." He clenches his hands briefly in his lap before standing suddenly. "I can leave—"

Eric reaches out, fumbling for Ryan's hand and grasping it tight once he's found it. "Stay. Please."

Ryan lowers himself back down into his seat, caught by those wide, dark eyes. He feels like his heart has taken up permanent residence in his throat, only a sharp ache left behind where it should be. "If you just want someone to stay with you, I can call Calleigh, or your parents are on their way—"

"I want _you_ here," Eric says, squeezing his hand gently.

He blinks a few times, pulling himself together. His eyes remain riveted on their clasped hands, his insides a jumbled mess of tangled emotion. He rubs at his face with his free hand and lets out a deep breath. "I thought you would hate me," he admits. They seem to spend so much time at each other's throats, especially early on, and now that he knows that Eric's forgotten about Speedle, too…

He almost couldn't visit him today, now that Eric spends more of his time awake, too afraid that he'd lost his friend anyway.

"I remember hating you," Eric says—slowly, like he's trying the words out, weighing the truth of them as they roll off his tongue— "but that's not what I feel when I look at you."

He looks up then and finds Eric studying him, eyes intent and brows drawn.

"Tell me."

Ryan blinks once, twice, uncomprehending. "What?"

"I wanna know what I'm missing."

He grimaces a little, and Eric gives his hand a small, encouraging squeeze. He sucks in a deep breath, eyes flicking down to their joined hands then back up to meet Eric's gaze. "We were cool at first, but I guess me not being Speedle, not being able to do everything he did just… wore down on everyone, and my relationship with the team got worse before it got better. More so with you than with anyone else. I never set out to replace him, I just wanted to do my job well and help people, but I knew it was probably always gonna seem that way, especially to you. But aside from when it came to Speedle's old cases, we worked well together, even though we butted heads all the time. Because, well, there was Speedle, and we're both stubborn sons of bitches," he says wryly, and receives an answering half-smile and eye-roll from Eric. "Also I don't always think as much as I should before acting. But I always considered you a friend."

Eric processes that a moment. At length, he asks, "When did that change?"

He'd never really realized it had, until now. But… "A little over a year ago, I got shot in the eye with a nail gun," he says. "It was supposed to be your case, but you were… dealing with family issues, and when you didn't pick up, I got called in on my day off. I walked in on the perp's mother hiding the nail gun, the murder weapon, and she shot me with it. You were near the scene, and you drove me to the hospital yourself, and… That was some crazy driving there, Delko, and I'm, I'm grateful," he adds, smiling a little. "I don't remember much 'til they put me on meds, but I remember that, and you running alongside the gurney… I guess one of the doctors must've held you back. But you were waiting for me when I was released and gave me a ride home. I thought, at the time, it was just because you felt guilty, but I guess not."

"No," Eric agrees softly, thumb tracing along Ryan's knuckles.

Ryan has to smile a little at that, a warm feeling uncurling beneath his rib cage. Their relationship has been better for longer than he realized. They still don't always see eye to eye, of course, but Eric's trying, isn't as quick to antagonize him as he used to be.

His head jerks up when the door opens and an older Hispanic woman and Slavic man enter: Eric's parents. He hastily slides his hand out of Eric's for the second time that day, hoping they didn't see.

"Mr and Mrs Delko," he says, rising from his seat.

"Oh, don't mind us," Eric's mother says, waving him back down, her dark eyes shining with understanding, as if they're— But, no, that's just him. He's not even going to think it, and he's certainly not going to let Eric's parents get the wrong idea.

"It's fine, I have to be getting back to work anyway," he tells them. "I just dropped in to make sure he's doing all right." The corner of his mouth twitches in a nervous smile, and he turns to Eric, nodding once, shortly. "See you."

"Yeah," Eric says, his expression unbearably soft. "See you."

Ryan leaves, and very deliberately does not call it fleeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hospitals are not my thing. Hospitals are the exact opposite of my thing. Hospitals give me anxiety. So I apologize deeply for any inaccuracies in this and the next chapter.


End file.
